


Wild Things

by DarkHorseAsh



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Alternate Universe - Different Classes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Beauregard Lionett, Autistic Caleb Widogast, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Nonverbal Character, Nonverbal Communication, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22775536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkHorseAsh/pseuds/DarkHorseAsh
Summary: Caleb Widogast was thirteen when he ran.  He had crystals in his arms and a still-changing daemon draped over his shoulders and he thought his world might be ending and so he ran.Beauregard Lionett is fifteen when she runs away for the last time, fox at her side.  She runs until she can't, until her feet are bloodied and her leg is broken and she simply can't imagine moving another step and that's when he finds her.Fjord is sixteen when he walks out the front door of the orphanage and doesn't turn back.  It isn't running, not really; you can't run from people who want you to go, so he leaves, in search of something better.Jester is sixteen, too, when her mother helps her into a dark hooded cloak and kisses her forehead and tells her to go and she does, slipping past the gates and walks quietly away from home.Molly is 2 years old when Gustav is arrested for murder.  Yasha doesn't know how old she is; birthdays weren't a thing, in her tribe or here.  But Molly turns to look at her with wide eyes and asks what to do and the only thing she thinks of is to run.Nott is 25 years old when she drowns.  She's been a goblin for 25 minutes when she decides she wants no part of this and runs.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 23
Kudos: 151





	1. Getting out

**Author's Note:**

> I am well aware that starting another story when I have like, 16 WIPS already is...not a good idea, but this wouldn't leave my head so here we are!

She was almost fifteen when she ran away. She was tired of years of bruises and verbal assaults and threats towards her daemon, Tara, and  _ pain,  _ and a week before her fifteenth birthday, she’d had enough. It was far from the first time Beauregard had run away, but this was the first time she’d done it with absolutely no intention of returning once she’d had enough time to calm down. She slung her bag over her shoulder and climbed over her windowsill and ran. 

She ran for a long time lanky fox moving at her side. Beau grew up on the move in the woods near her parent’s home, running between trees and climbing them with ease. She slowed a little on the third day, once she’d put a bit of distance between their home and herself. Beau had no idea where she was going, but as long as she was moving away from Kamordah, she was fine with it. It got colder as she walked, and the girl was beginning to realize it was probably a bad idea to leave during winter but there was  _ no  _ way she was ever going to return, so she continued to walk. 

On the fifth day, things started going wrong. She hadn’t seen a town or even a road or a  _ person  _ since she’d left home, and there was a throbbing ache settled in her stomach and legs as she moved. She’d run out of food half-way through day two since she hadn’t been able to grab a whole lot of food from the house before she’d left. On day five, though, Beau got stupid. She wasn’t looking where she was walking, one leg catching on a root and sending the teen flying down a sharp incline, hitting the ground in a burst of  _ pain.  _

Everything hurt. She wasn’t sure how long she’d walked, dragging her painful left leg with each step. Her eyes scanned somewhat frantically for somewhere to rest as she stumbled again, letting out a cry as she rolled sideways to avoid hitting her head on a rock. She hauled herself back to her feet, barely able to move from how much pain she was in. 

It was nearly nightfall when she saw it. A tiny hut stood before her, pressed back almost into a cliff face. Beau gave a relieved whine, stumbling towards it. Frozen fingers fumbled with the doorknob, but Beau eventually managed to get her fingers around it to yank the door open with an exhausted whine. She managed to throw herself through the door and, as her vision faded, she could hear a sharp, worried sound.

She opened her eyes on something slightly softer than the ground. For a moment, she assumed she was dead, but then she felt the pain shooting up her leg into her spine. Her eyes focused slowly and she realized she was in what seemed to be a small hut. She was laying on a cot, and there was a simple wooden table in the center of the room. The walls were covered in very poorly made shelves, upon which were books and carvings. 

It took her long moments before she could sit up, body spasming in agony, but Beau was used to moving through pain and so slowly fought her way to upright. It was a few moments later when she realized Tara was draped over her legs, red nose resting on her hip. Beau brought a shaky hand down to touch the soft fur with a moan; she  _ hurt.  _ It was then that she spotted the movement on near the door. A frail figure was standing in the doorway, outlined by the dying rays of sunlight behind them. A few steps forward and a pair of blue eyes and flame-colored hair became visible. The figure didn’t speak, clumsily setting down a bag of something on the table and moving to the other side of the room to mess with what seemed to be a makeshift kitchen.

Beau rubbed her throat for a moment before speaking, giving a hoarse “hey, who are you?” But the figure didn’t even seem to notice. A flash of orange drew her attention to an incredibly too-thin daemon, what looked like a tiger curled up under the table. A few minutes later, a bowl was set on the table by the cot. Beau reached for it before the man’s hands were fully withdrawn and he made a sharp, strangled noise, hurtling back until his legs struck the table. He was shaking as he turned away, and Beau couldn’t help but call out “Look dude, I’m sorry.” 

She wanted to be able to not trust the food, to consider it, but she was so hungry all she could do was gulp the soup down greedily. It was warm, something meaty and not so rich as to hurt her desperate stomach, and she made a delighted noise as she finished off the bowl and turned her attention to scanning the room once more. Her eyes one again fell on the man, though she realized after a moment that it wasn’t a man it was a boy perhaps a little older than her. He was curled up near the small fire pit in the corner of the room, wrapped in what looked like a filth coat.

Beau fought her way back to laying, reaching one hand out to stroke Tara’s head. She didn’t notice the tiger move, until it was standing beside her. “He tries, you know.” Beau flinched back, and the daemon took two steps back. “I’m sorry to scare you, I just…” The tiger turns to look in the human’s direction, before returning his gaze to Beau. “He’s trying. We’re trying. Just...be patient with him, please.” The tiger turns and before Beau has a chance to speak, they’re crossing the floor and flopping on top of the sleeping figure. 


	2. Failures to communicate

She woke up to sunlight on her face, flickering through the small, dirty window in the door. She shifted, resting a hand against Tara’s shoulder as the red fox squirmed to sit up and put her little paws on Beau’s knees, nosing at her ears. Beau shifted, leaning further up against the wall as she scanned the room, eyes falling on the figure hunched in front of a pot. “Hey.” She called softly, trying not to be threatening, but the figure still hurtled himself away like he’d been burned. Beau sighed, shifting so she was sitting up on the bed and gasping at the wave of dizziness that overwhelmed her. 

“Nein!” A sharp cry forced her attention back to the boy, who had stumbled to a few feet away from her, hands flapping anxiously. “Sich hinlegen! Du bist verletzt!” Beau had absolutely no idea what that meant, but the way he was gesturing towards her legs made her assume it was something along the lines of telling her to lay back down because her legs were injured. She sighed, slowly shifting till she was laying down once more. “What’s your name dude?” Those nervous eyes flickered back to her face, and she sighed. “C’mon, who am I gonna tell out here? My name is Beau.” She offered, carefully. “This is Tara.” The fox gave a happy chirping sound, sitting up on Beau’s lap. “Nice to meet you.”

The boy hesitated for another moment, before giving a very soft “Mein name ist Caleb. Das ist Frumpkin.” He gestured towards the tiger, and Beau gave a little smile despite herself. Caleb, as he apparently was called, turned as fast as he could. He gave another sharp word in a language Beau didn’t recognize to the tiger, “Aufstehen” and ducked out of what Beau had decided was probably a hut. 

Once he was gone, Tara leapt to the floor, moving around the room smelling everything she could. “He’s weird!” The fox grumbles, and Beau gives a sharp, amused sound. “So are we, might I remind you. I should get out of here.” Tara paused, turning to send Beau a look. “But there’s food! I like food. And it’s warm!” She protests. Beau sighs, staring down at her legs. She could  _ see  _ how swollen her left leg was; it was clear that she wasn’t going to be able to walk on it without risking a pile of further damage. 

“Ok but...as soon as I can walk, we’re outta here.” Tara seemed satisfied enough with that, scrambling back up onto the bed to lick at Beau’s ankles. Beau sighed, bored out of her mind as she leaned against the wall, closing her eyes and quickly dozing off.

She awoke to Tara’s strange little sound, half bark and half chirp that meant someone was about to be watching them. She scrambles to sitting once more, accidentally dislodging Tara onto the end of the cot as the door opened and the frail man slipped in. He was grasping a dagger in one hand and a blood-stained bag in the other, and Beau watched as he pulled out what looked like  _ very  _ fresh rabbit meat and started slicing.

The next few days went basically the same way. Beau spent most of her time sleeping out of sheer boredom, or watching Tara run loops around the room. It seemed to be working; her knee was much less swollen, and by the fourth day she managed more than the two steps to the chamberpot. She  _ wanted  _ to go outside, so she gave a mental call for Tara and slowly made her way outside. Her knee ached, but it wasn’t the stabbing pain it had been. Beau slowly hobbled to the door, pushing it aside and stepping out into the sunlight. 

The hut was in the center of a very small clearing, with trees just feet from the front door. Glancing around, Beau’s sharp eyes spotted what looked like a small garden tucked up against one wall of the hut. She slumped to the grass, leaning against the wall of the shack with a tired smile. Tara bolted immediately; Beau and her daemon had always been able to separate further than most. Tara was perfectly happy to be ten, twenty, even thirty feet away before Beau felt that sharp sort of twinge in the middle of her chest. 

Tara came back twenty minutes later chewing on a squirrel carcass and looking quite proud of herself. Beau sighed and stretched her legs a little; she was on her way back to her feet when Tara gave a sharp bark. Beau turned towards the woods, freezing in worry when she saw Frumpkin, blood staining his front leg, scrambling out of the woods. “Caleb, need help.” The cat gasped, and Beau broke into a run.

She didn’t even really think. There was a bear up on its legs roaring, and her eyes caught a flash of reddish hair on the ground below it. Cursing furiously, Beau sped up, one hand reaching out to grab the dagger Caleb had discarded and hurtling herself at the creature roaring back. The next few moments passed in a blur of blood and roaring, but when Beau fell still, the bear had fled. She turned to look back at Caleb, who was slumped against a log, sides heaving. Frumpkin was crouched on the log behind him, teeth bared viciously. Beau slumped to the ground against a tree, suddenly incredibly shaky. 

Long minutes pass before Beau feels stable enough to stand. Tara nuzzled at her legs and Beau draped a hand against the daemon’s shoulder. “I’m ok.” She promised shakily. “I’m ok, Tara, I promise.” Tara seemed to calm a little, but she still looked worried. The fox darted over to crouch near Caleb and Frumpkin. Beau slowly approached, grimacing a little. Frumpkin was bloodied, not putting his front right leg down, and Beau could only imagine how much that was hurting Caleb. “Tara, come back,” she called, and the fox bounded back to her side. “He’s hurt,” she whined, and Beau gave a wary nod. “Yeah. Which is why we’re going to make sure they’re ok. From afar.”

Tara clambered up onto Beau’s shoulders as Beau hauled herself up onto the low branch of a tree, leaning back against the trunk to keep watch. The forest sat quietly for a moment as Beau breathed, watching the leaves wave in the wind.

And then, just as she’s about to calm, she spots two gleaming golden eyes in the forest. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave any comments/criticisms/ideas in the comments! Next chapter will (probably) be Caleb flashbacks, but it might not.


End file.
